


Liminal Spaces

by Skaldic_Jedi



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Porn, Consensual Kink, F/M, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Hopeful Ending, Oneshot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexy Times, sexual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaldic_Jedi/pseuds/Skaldic_Jedi
Summary: Sometimes they pretend to be strangers.The first time it happens by accident. Dimitri catches Byleth by the arm as she’s leaving the greenhouse, pulling her into a patch of shadow, and instinct kicks in before her eyes adjust from the glassy brightness to the sweaty summer darkness. She shoves him backwards against the wall of the nearby dormitory, the Sword of the Creator leveled at his throat.Dimitri gazes back at her over the serrated edge of the blade, his one good eye empty of fear.Of course, she thinks.Death cannot frighten a man who sees ghosts.______Byleth and Dimitri's frustrations with one another reach a natural boiling point.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 22
Kudos: 214





	Liminal Spaces

Sometimes they pretend to be strangers. 

The first time it happens by accident. Dimitri catches Byleth by the arm as she’s leaving the greenhouse, pulling her into a patch of shadow, and instinct kicks in before her eyes adjust from the glassy brightness to the sweaty summer darkness. She shoves him backwards against the wall of the nearby dormitory, the Sword of the Creator leveled at his throat.

She has encountered assassins before, never on the monastery grounds, but there’s a first time for everything. In the past, they have come bearing the Empress’s regard in the form of a knife, sharp enough to pass through leather, often poisoned. She has trouble imagining Edelgard stooping to hire paid killers, especially with Ferdinand assuredly roasting her about honor, but Hubert would doubtless be unmoved by such arguments. Byleth sees his dark hand in these precision strikes, like a falcon diving for a rat. It is these near misses that leave her on edge, vulnerable to overreactions. And that, in and of itself, is likely part of Hubert’s calculations.

Dimitri gazes back at her over the serrated edge of the blade, his one good eye empty of fear. _Of course_ , she thinks. _Death cannot frighten a man who sees ghosts_. 

The shock of his changed appearance has still not worn off, but what actually bothers her is that, for a moment, Byleth does not recognize him inside this cold figure of hate. He is not Dimitri, not her Dimitri, beautiful and noble and kind, but regardless his powerfully apathetic expression stirs something in her, a desire too dark to name. 

“Do you mean to cut my throat?” he asks, his tone completely removed, as if he could care less what she decides. “It would save Edelgard a good deal of effort, though she might lament losing the opportunity to finish the job herself. Felix, too. He would love nothing more than to put down the Boar Prince.”

Byleth lets the blade fall. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.” She has found it best to ignore his self-deprecating remarks when he’s in a mood like this.

“People? Or you, specifically?”

“I’m people, last I checked.” He’s still holding her arm, his grip only showcasing a hint of the crushing strength she knows he possesses. She should pull away, but it’s the first time he has allowed her close enough to touch him since she found him in that goddess-forsaken tower, subsisting off rats.

He snorts. “I have my doubts.”

Before she can ask him what he means by that, his hand flashes up to her hair, grasping several tendrils firmly enough that her scalp tugs. The pain is slight, buzzing her stomach with that same curious interest as before. “I always meant to ask, how much of you is still Byleth, do you think? Or has the goddess claimed more than just your hair?”

_Walk away_ , she tells herself. _Leave before you do something you regret._

But she does not leave. She does not walk away.

Byleth leans in, fisting her sword in one hand and the scruff of his shirt in the other. Dimitri issues a soft _whoof_ as she pushes him back against the wall again. Her foot slides between his, her leg spreading him as she finds stronger footing. “Goddess or not, do you think it wise to provoke my wrath?” 

The words spill out of her, inky and slick, like she’s speaking in tongues. She doesn’t know where they come from. She doesn’t know why they feel so damned _good_ , either. For most of her life, she has worked to make herself less intimidating, more approachable. Softer. 

For all the good it’s done her. She still fell. Faerghus fell. The Alliance is on its way out, Rhea is missing, and all the kindness she showed the students of other houses has been thrown back in her face. Frequently accompanied by axes, spells, and spears.

And then there’s Dimitri. 

When she found him alive, against all odds, she had hope they might pick up where they left off, the gathering heat between them no longer held back by the barriers of his rank and her position. But every hand she has held out to him since, he has bitten. Every olive branch he has snapped in half. The time for softer is over. _Good riddance._

Dimitri does not answer. At least, not in words. The corners of his mouth lift in an approximation of a smile. He holds her gaze, his smoky appraisal sending a shiver down through her. It’s a challenge.

Another moment passes before she realizes the hand no longer tangled in her hair is now resting on the curve of her hip.

Another beat in which she comes to understand what she is about to do.

She isn’t sure who initiates the kiss, but their mouths meet violently, and Dimitri rapidly takes the lead after that. The sword leaves her grasp the instant he grips her wrist, turning her into the wall. The brick roughs her cheek, but she’s too distracted by the evidence of his attraction pressing firmly against her ass. Her own body reacts with an anticipatory ache. She wishes she was facing him so she could work his trousers over his hips and watch his cock come free. Instead, she settles for grinding back against him, savoring the low sound of pain he makes.

“Tell me you want this,” Dimitri says into her ear, and for a moment, he sounds like his old self. Full of doubt. Almost tender. And she knows that if she denied him, he would stop. For all that he has become, and all the humanity he has left behind, he is not a true monster.

And she does not want him to stop.

“I want this,” she says. “I want you.”

“Me,” he scoffs. This is the choice he most resents her for making. For daring to love the one person he hates most in the world: himself. “You think you know me. You’re mistaken. The boy you knew is dead, ground up in the Flame Emperor’s pointless war. I am merely his corpse.”

Byleth tries to twist around, to contradict him, but his hands bring her arms above her head, locking her in place. Her hair falls away from the back of her neck, and his hot breath replaces it, lips printing his words onto her skin. “And you, _Professor_ ,” Dimitri snarls. “Who are you, really?”

“No one,” Byleth replies without thinking. Because that is who Dimitri can love right now. 

No one.

This answer seems to satisfy him. He releases her and begins the work of unfastening his belt and lowering his trousers. Byleth knows that he will rip her clothes right off if she isn’t fast enough, and although part of her would enjoy the raw spectacle of his power, she quickly exposes herself in order to spare herself an awkward conversation with their local clothier.

The night air is warm but Dimitri is warmer still, his skin still trapping all the heat of the day. He parts her legs with his knee, creating enough room for him to push his hard flesh between her thighs. She groans as he slides back and forth against her sex, teasing them both with entry. Although he is no longer holding her wrists, Byleth keeps her hands flattened against the brick, anchoring herself against the rhythm of his movements, adding that extra little bit of resistance. She wants him to be hard, forceful. Dimitri has punished himself enough. Let him punish someone else for a change.

They’re not exactly out in the open in this seldom-visited spot, but there is still the risk of exposure. The chance that one of the nighttime sentries may pass and glimpse their urgent meeting in the shadows. But far from dissuading her from continuing, the danger of discovery only thrills her. Every part of this feels forbidden, and after years of restraint and months of tension, the loosening of her inhibitions feels like chains dropping away.

“Will you be quiet when I take you, I wonder?” Dimitri muses, as casually as one might reflect on tomorrow’s weather. “Or shall I make you howl?”

He ruts against her, the tip of his cock finding her greatest vulnerability, and she makes a desperate noise inadvertently, grinding down on him, wanting to take him in. His chest against her back vibrates with a self-satisfied chuckle. “As I suspected,” he murmurs. But clearly someone hearing is worth the risk, because he grabs her hips with his large, powerful hands, angling himself for a more proper entrance.

“Stop talk—” She cuts off with a gasp, surprised by the strength of his first thrust.

Dimitri draws out tantalizingly slowly, before thrusting again, hard and fast. She bows her head and shuts her eyes, trying to avoid crying out, but that becomes much more challenging as Dimitri reaches a hand around to her sensitive clit and begins to roll it between his thumb and forefinger, trying different patterns in an obvious attempt to discern what she likes. Byleth answers him in breathy, wordless moans, and as he continues pumping into her, she feels her body weakening, knees going first. The force of his passion nearly lifts her off her feet and she can feel her teeth leaving marks in her lower lip and _saints_ , he feels incredible, every long inch of him working her for pleasure.

His name starts to climb up her throat, but she fights it down. Names will only break the spell of the moment. Let them be strangers. Let them learn each other in the dark, if they cannot do it in the light.

The hitch in his breath informs Byleth that he’s as close as she is and she murmurs, “Harder.”

Dimitri has done nothing she’s asked since they were reunited, but in this he obeys.

It still isn’t enough.

“ _Harder,_ ” she repeats, gritting her teeth. She can feel him holding back, some part still cognizant of hurting her, and reluctant to do so. It is that hesitation that gives her hope, that makes her realize the well he has fallen down is not bottomless. She can still bring him out.

Byleth breaks before Dimitri does, surprising them both. The sudden release of tension thwarts her efforts to be silent, and she finally cries out, tightening around him. Her hands scorch the bricks as she lets off an unintentional Fire spell, but manages to keep it contained to the side of the building. Dimitri continues to move inside her throbbing core, sending up bright euphoric signals throughout her body, until at last he finds completion as well, releasing his slick warmth inside her. They obviously hadn’t discussed this ending, but with no heartbeat herself, Byleth sincerely doubts she will ever be able to deliver something living into this world. No—all she has, all she will ever have, are those who already love her, and this stubborn man who won’t.

She enjoys the tiny twinges of pleasure as Dimitri withdraws and tries not to think about the next few moments, bound to be awkward. The moon has slipped behind some clouds, offering more coverage as they both dress. Proper clean up will have to wait until they get back to their respective rooms.

Byleth does not wait to be left. She retrieves her sword, and starts for her quarters without a word. If Dimitri wishes to say something, she does not stay to hear it. And if he watches regretfully as she leaves, Byleth does not let herself turn back with hope to see it.

#

Neither of them bothers with the lie of promising it will never happen again, which is why it doesn’t surprise Byleth all the times it does. 

Between their engagements with the enemy, back at the monastery and often after dark, they snatch each other into shadowy corners and covert gardens. She enjoys the nights Dimitri overpowers her, taking her up against a wall or from behind on the ground, animal need further shredding his tattered nobility. It usually happens quickly, to avoid being caught in the act, but also because he feels some pointless guilt about such aggressive coupling. She cannot seem to convince him that there is no shame where they both find pleasure.

Perhaps that is also why, lately, she has begun commanding him instead, laying him back against grass or dirt and mounting him from above. Sometimes she takes his hand and places it around her neck to show how she is not afraid of him nor of a little pain. And when he squeezes, always stopping short of leaving bruises, she teaches him the limits of his inner darkness.

She looks forward to these gentler rendezvouses most of all. Because when Dimitri is lost in the sensation of her, his features soften to expressions of sheer honesty: calm, blissful, and almost relieved. She sees through the scarred stranger in those brief interludes to the man she knows. She sees Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

And when his eyes flutter open afterward, their bodies still joined together, Byleth feels a rush of hope that maybe, maybe he is seeing her, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaah, my first attempt at kink! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> twitter: @Skaldic_Jedi


End file.
